


a star closer than the sun

by TheOfficialCanadianTeabag



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Birthday Party!, Father-Son Relationship, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, MINI GOLF MINI GOLF MINI GOLF, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), a lot of this is so cheesy and sappy and corny, also connor would absolutely organize an entire day JUST for hank, also there's some Reed900 but only if you squint, and even then you can see it as a platonic friendship, connor is just a son wanting to make his dad happy, gavin's a dick and i hate him but also believe he can be redeemed, happy belated birthday hank!, i am so sorry lol, i love hank so FUCKING MUCH, i only want hank to be happy, nines is a cutie and i love markus, once again happy birthday hank, this is just literally 10000 words of connor loving hank unconditionally, this is so late because i'm a dumbass who thought his birthday was on the 15th, too many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOfficialCanadianTeabag/pseuds/TheOfficialCanadianTeabag
Summary: It's a special day and Connor wants to do something special for his special human.





	a star closer than the sun

**Author's Note:**

> How do you do, fellow deviants.  
> My first contribution to this fandom. My fingers itched to write Connor loving the fuck out of Hank and wanting him to be happy, thus: this fic. 10K words of me projecting my love for Hank onto you guys.  
> This is late as shit, but. Happy birthday, Hank, you old slut.  
> (love u)

**a star closer than the sun**

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 6, 2039**

_7:54 AM_

 Light breaks into the room and lands on Hank’s eyelids. He can already tell it’s way too early to be up and it’s too early for the fucking sun to come and disturb his sleep. Immediately, he wishes for the release of death.

“Lieutenant?” comes a familiar, sweet voice. It’s not enough to encourage Hank to move.

With a grunt, Hank rolls over onto his other side, away from the sun.

“Wake up, Lieutenant.” And fucking Connor just won’t let him be, will he?

“Fuck. Off,” Hank says into his pillow.

He hears a sound that vaguely resembles a sigh. “Come on, Lieutenant, it’s time to get up. It’s a big day today.”

“Connor, get the fuck outta here and let me sleep, goddammit.”

Surprisingly, the android backs down. “Okay, Hank. I’ll let you sleep a bit longer.” Hank’s thick blanket gets tucked in under his back. The blinds close and the room is once again engulfed in darkness. Soft footsteps lead out of the room, and the door closes.

Hank is out like a light merely seconds after Connor leaves.

* * *

_10:14 AM_

 Hank stumbles into the kitchen after throwing on an old t-shirt, nearly tripping over Sumo. The smell of something sweet and slightly burnt wafts up his nose. He wipes a hand over his groggy eyes and the old cop squints at the commotion.

Connor turns to him, his doe-like brown eyes twinkling, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Morning, Lieutenant.”

Hank eyes him warily. “Mornin’...” He takes a few steps closer to investigate, a hand scratching idly at his stomach. “Uh...what’re you up to?”

“I’m cooking,” Connor says simply.

“No shit. But why?”

The android pokes at something yellow in one pan, and something white in another. “Conveniently enough, I received a very—interesting software update early this morning that required me to go down to Cyberlife. When I came back here, I decided to download four thousand recipes to start, and to see what I can do with them.” He turns back to Hank and his small smile harnesses energy from the sun. “I’m not programmed to be able to know how to cook, so I’ve spent this morning teaching myself.”

Hank frowns. He scratches his beard and hobbles towards the kitchen table. Connor’s made at least six million different dishes, from what appears to be muffins to avocado on toast to ramen to fucking _calamari_ and all of them equally mouth-watering and seemingly perfect. Fuck if Hank knows where and how this kid scraped together all the ingredients for all this damn food. Why so much food, anyway? Somewhere on the floor, Sumo snores.

Without warning, Connor stuffs half a donut into his own mouth.

Hank stops.

Hank blinks.

Hank wipes his knuckles over his eyes again, rubbing away the eye gunk and making sure he’s not still dreaming.

Hank is fucking _confused._ If he could, he would be saying something along the lines of _“???”_ out loud, but first he’d need to figure out _how_ to say that out loud.

He has a lot of questions. None of which he asks. Half the donut is gone and Connor’s body doesn’t explode, or malfunction, or burst into flames, or shut down. He carries on like nothing happened and Hank just stares at the back of his head because _what the hell did he just witness?_

“What the fuck was that?” he asks eloquently.

Connor looks at him, his soft eyes blinking slowly, and Hank notices he’s wearing one of his DPD hoodies from a decade back, which swallows his slim frame easily. “What do you mean, Hank?”

“You.” Hank points an accusatory finger. “You—you—fucking…” He staggers next to Connor and points furiously at the box of donuts. “Since when do you eat?”

Comprehension fills those big brown eyes and the little half-smile returns. He blinks once. “Since seven forty-five this morning. That was the software update.”

“Wh—“ Hank’s expression relaxes. “What? Really?”

Connor nods. He turns back to poking the yellow thing in the pan and, now that he’s up close, Hank sees that this android is making an omelette. “I’m just as surprised as you are. Even though I’m one of the most advanced prototypes up to date, it took Cyberlife this long to make consumption of food one of my abilities. Before me, the only androids who were able to do this were the YK500s—the child androids,” he explains. “I’m the first adult android to share this proficiency with them.” He sets down the rubber spatula and pivots, giving his full attention to the grizzled old cop. “Although I don’t need to eat for nourishment, I think it’s exciting.” He puts his hands in the sweater pockets and this is the most human he has ever looked. It’s a good look on him. “I wanted to show you earlier, so we could test my new abilities together, but...you wanted your sleep, and I respect that.”

Hank blinks. “Er...so you tried waking me up so you could show me?” Damn, that would’ve been something he’d actually want to see. “Jesus, kid. You should’ve said something sooner.”

Connor shakes his head. “It’s fine, Lieutenant.”

“Shush.” Hank takes Connor’s shoulders and gently turns him back towards the stove. “Should let ya concentrate. What’s going on here, anyway?”

“A cheese omelette, and pancakes,” Connor says. He looks toward the pancake sizzling away. He picks up another spatula and gives that sucker a flip. Nice. “After I’m done here, I think I’ll get started on—“ He blinks rapidly and the LED in his temple flashes a thoughtful yellow. “Butter chicken.”

“Christ. Are you just gonna cook all day?”

“No,” Connor says. He reaches over to turn off the burner under the omelette. He spins on his heel and takes a muffin from the buffet he’s laid out—he sinks his teeth into it and Hank just stares because the sight is so strange yet so normal at the same time. “Please, Lieutenant, help yourself.”

Hank glances down at an identical muffin sitting on a plate inches away. The temptation grew too much to bear. He carefully lifts it and it looks good. It looks real fucking good. He takes a bite.

Connor watches him. “What’s the verdict?”

Not surprisingly, it’s as good as it looks. “Whoa. This is amazing, Connor.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it. Now—“ The android claps his hands together. “I’ll prepare you your coffee. Please sit and dig in. Have as much as you like.”

Going deviant was possibly the best decision Connor ever made, in Hank’s opinion. Ever since last November, after the revolution, the android had been nothing but kind and sweet. A little cheeky at some times, but that was just one of his unique personality traits. This, however, was going above and beyond. “What’s the occasion, Connor?” the old cop demands. “Why’re you going through all this trouble just for me, huh?”

Connor blinks at him. His eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head, looking like a confused puppy. “Trouble? It’s no trouble for me, Hank. Not at all.”

“Okay, but _why?_ Why, you fucking numbnut?”

“It’s a special day, Lieutenant.” Connor continues looking baffled, looking at Hank like he can’t believe he just said that. “Today is…”

Hank folds his arms across his chest.

Connor’s face relaxes a bit—now he looks slightly worried. “Today,” he says quietly. “is your birthday, Hank.”

Oh.

“Did you forget your own birthday, Lieutenant?”

“No,” Hank lies. He reaches for a slice of toast and chomps down on it. He grumbles, “Even if I did, who cares. Just marks another year closer to death.” More chomping. “Half a century goes by and you just stop caring. It’s fun when you’re a kid and you get presents and shit. When you grow up, you can probably afford to buy everything that you want by yourself so it’s not interesting anymore.” More annoyed chomping. “I’m another year older. Who cares? I sure don’t.”

Connor moves, faster than the speed of light, breaking the sound barrier. Hank can barely process what is about to happen until it actually happens. The android is suddenly in front of him, and is hugging him, tightly, passionately. Connor’s arms are around Hank and his chin digs into the old lieutenant’s shoulder. Hank stays perfectly still.

_“I_ care, Hank,” Connor whispers. His arms are warm and he smells like clean laundry. “It might not seem too special to you anymore, but it will always be special for me. You’re good to me, Hank, and I wanna…” He leans back just enough to look his human in the eyes. “I want to cherish you. For as long as you live.”

For a second, Hank is sure his heart has melted and dripped off his ribcage into a puddle of goo. Sentimental bullshit embarrasses and irritates him, doesn’t it? Then why does he feel...neither of the two? He feels...warm. And pleasant. And—

—loved, maybe.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way.

Connor looks at him with superficial eyes, but somehow the light from the sun has gathered in them, and they have become alive. His deep brown eyes hold a sense of innocence that Hank can’t quite define, a profound naivety that counteracts the fact that he’s not human, and never will be. Maybe the world can close its eyes and pretend Connor is a living being, for a minute, just a minute. Those kind, almond-shaped eyes are enough to break Hank. Connor always finds a way to knock through the thick fortifications surrounding the cop’s heart.

The corner of Hank’s mouth twitches up into a little smile. He reaches up with one hand and cards it through Connor’s soft dark hair. It feels good against his fingers and he strokes the back of the android’s neck affectionately.

“Thanks, kid,” he says quietly. “I think I needed to hear that today.”

And Connor smiles and Hank can’t be more convinced that he is a living, breathing, feeling, and thinking organism. Connor hugs him tight tight tight, and it feels so good that if he called the shots, they’d stay like this for as long as possible.

“I’m glad,” Connor says. “Happy birthday, Hank. Smile while you still have your teeth.”

Hank rumbles out a gravelly laugh. He tilts his head and kisses Connor’s head, just above his bright blue LED. “Shut your mouth, RoboCop.”

* * *

_11:02  AM_

 “God, I’m so fucking full,” Hank groans. He pats his belly, satisfied. “Those pancakes were _good._ What did you put in them?”

“Blueberries. I like blueberries,” Connor chirps. “They’re sweet, and I’ve decided I really enjoy sweet things.” To prove himself, he takes another donut and bites into it.

“Yeah, well, lucky you, being able to enjoy sweet stuff. My fat ass can’t have too much of that shit, which sucks because most of it is pretty good,” Hank grumbles.

Connor smiles sweetly. “You should enjoy yourself, Hank.”

“But not too much.”

“But not too much, yes. To me, you’re fine to splurge every now and then. Especially today.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “Well, lucky I got you around, am I right? Otherwise I’d have eaten another one of those freezer-burnt waffles and called it a day.”

“I wonder what you’d do without me,” Connor teases lightly. He finishes his donut and stands, reaching for Hank’s now empty plate.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Hank says sharply. “I’m doin’ the dishes.”

“Oh, no you’re not. I can handle it.” Connor tries to take the plate but Hank holds onto it.

“You’ve done enough. You did all this cooking, so it only makes sense that I clean up. Let go.”

Connor shakes his head. “It’s your special day and I refuse to let you do any work. Please don’t be difficult.”

“Stop it, Connor. You did a shitload of work and I’ve done nothing,” Hank insists. He attempts to pry Connor’s fingers off the dish, but maybe he’s forgotten this android is strong as hell because it feels like he’s trying to rip a chunk of cement out of the sidewalk.

Connor gently pushes Hank’s hand out of the way, and reaches over to squeeze his shoulder. “Hank, it’s okay. Just relax.” He piles the dishes on top of each other and moves to the sink. “Actually, would you please go take a shower? We’re going out.”

Hank cringes. “We are?”

“Yes.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. Take a shower and get dressed.” When Connor turns around, Hank is glaring at him, so he smiles and flutters his eyelashes for effect. _“Please.”_

Hank scowls but pushes himself off his chair. “Fine. Just don’t use them...puppy-dog eyes on me ever again. Got it?”

Connor pistol-points. “Got it.”

On his way to the bathroom, Hank stops to pet Sumo. Several minutes later, Connor hears the shower turn on. He turns to the St. Bernard, who looks up at him curiously. “I want Hank to have a great day, so I planned some things in advance just for him,” he tells the dog. “Do you think I’m going overboard?”

In response, Sumo yawns lazily.

“I don’t know. I really wasn’t sure how I should go about this, but—I’m confident he’s going to like what I’ve planned. At least, I hope he does. Don’t tell him, okay?”

Sumo blinks.

Connor grins. “Good boy.”

* * *

_11:36 AM_

 “I’ll drive,” Hank grunts. He tugs at his grey bomber jacket and dusts off his pants.

“No,” Connor says. He decided to change clothes as well, and now sports a dark green _Knights of the Black Death_ t-shirt that he’s tucked into light blue jeans.

“What the _fuck,”_ Hank says. “Do I get a choice in anything we do today?”

“Not at all,” Connor responds almost cheerfully. “Nobody’s driving today. We’re taking the bus around the city, the old-fashioned way.”

The old lieutenant lets out a long-suffering sigh. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

They leave Hank’s house. It’s the perfect day, in Connor’s opinion—he made sure to pay special attention to today’s forecast to ensure everything he planned was to work out entirely in his favour. So far so good.

The bus stop is a little bit down the street, but not too far at all. It’s there that, a minute or two later, they wait side-by-side for their ride.

“So tell me more about this update thing,” Hank says. “Why do you need it?”

Connor tilts his chin slightly to the right and his hands find his pockets. “I really don’t think I _need_  it, per se, but according to the patch notes, I’m supposed to test my chemical imbalance recognition software to determine the levels of sugars, salts, and bitter molecules in the food I eat. I then have to run several diagnostics for statistical and mathematical analysis, and send a report to Cyberlife.”

Hank scratches his head as he visibly tries to absorb this new information.

“Within the first bite, I can narrow my options from nine thousand different dishes, to two hundred and fifty. The more bites I take, the more accurate the identification results become—though, in all my tests so far, the receptors in my mouth have been perfectly accurate on the first bite,” Connor explains. “In tandem with the identification process, the artificial saliva in my mouth can now help separate components from each other, which speeds up the time it’ll take me to determine the basis of what I’m intaking.”

“Cool,” Hank says, sounding slightly concerned. “Fuck, I didn’t even know you had a stomach...compartment...thing.”

Connor blinks. “Of course I do. I have to intake thirium somehow.”

“Right, right.”

The bus turns the corner and approaches the stop. They hop on and sit down together. Over the course of time it took for androids to gain rights, the annulation of segregation had been granted first. There were no more android compartments on public transit, meaning nobody could tell Connor he wasn’t allowed to sit next to Hank. A few eyes curiously looked towards them as they sat, but nobody said anything.

“Every once in a while, preferably once a month,” Connor says as the bus rumbles along. “my stomach biocomponent has to be emptied and cleaned to prevent overflowing. Overflowing may interfere with the abilities of my other biocomponents, so it’s important that I routinely clean myself out.”

“Huh.”

“It’ll be sort of like cleaning your vacuum out—you take out the canister, dump whatever’s in it, and you’re done.”

“Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Connor’s eyes twinkle. “I’ll make sure not to clean myself in your presence, Lieutenant.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks.” He crosses his arms. “Does this mean you won’t be shoving nasty shit in your mouth anymore?”

“Nope,” Connor responds brightly. “The forensics unit is now a program I can choose to run or to dismiss, so I can interchange between the two programs when the situation calls.”

“Great,” the cop grumbles. “So what you’re saying is that there’s no escaping whatever gross shit you gotta do.”

In response, Connor smiles almost smugly.

“Fucking wonderful.” Hank shifts in his seat. “All I needed today was for my fucking android to get upgraded so now he’s able to eat all my fucking food.” He looks out the window. “Anyway, are you gonna tell me where we’re going or not?”

Connor shifts closer to his partner. “The whole point of having a birthday is to not know what the surprise is. Or, should I say, surprise _s._ Plural.”

Hank sighs but his face relaxes. “You do too much for me, kid.”

“No way.” Warmth spreads to Connor’s cheeks. “I wish I could give you more. You deserve the world, Hank.”

“Oh, god, Connor, not in public. You’re going to give me a bad reputation.” The lieutenant’s face flushes.

The android chuckles quietly to himself. “Assuming you didn’t have one already.”

* * *

_11:35 AM_

 “Er...what…” Hank stares at the building. “Seriously?”

Connor’s grin is enormous. He puts his hands on his hips and he looks so fucking _proud_. “Yup.”

Just looking at this place fills Hank with excitement, but Connor doesn’t need to know that. “Mini golf?”

“Black light mini golf,” Connor corrects him.

Hank shakes his head. “I don’t play golf, Connor.”

“You don’t have to play golf to play mini golf, Lieutenant.” Connor smirks. “Something told me you were meaning to go mini-golfing, but never got the opportunity.”

How the fuck did he know that? Hank stares at Connor in bewilderment. He never told anyone, not even Fowler. Android intuition, maybe?

“Come on, let’s go play a few rounds, Hank.” The android grabs Hank’s arm and drags him to the entrance. “It’ll be fun!”

“Connor, no yanking, Jesus Christ _.”_

“Well, hurry up.”

Before Hank can back out, they’re inside and Connor is already talking to the female android behind the desk. On top of juggling the work the DPD tosses at him, and alongside a social life, somehow Connor managed the time to organize this shit. Not that Hank minds. Well, he minds, but—he also doesn’t mind. His brain is on a weird train of thought right now.

“Keep up, Hank,” Connor suddenly says. “It’s our turn.”

Hank lets Connor guide him to another door, the one that must lead to the golf course. Hopefully he won’t embarrass himself too much.

They enter the big room and he’s nearly blinded, the black light making every colour pop out. Upbeat music pours through the speakers and there are lots of people around but not enough for one to feel suffocated. It is bright. It is beautiful. And it does look like fun and Hank feels ten years old again.

He turns to Connor, who’s smiling mischievously. “Ready to get your ass kicked, old man?”

That triggers something in Hank’s head, and a flood of adrenaline washes over his middle-aged bones. Time goes against the current and he is filled with energy. Maybe youth has no age after all.

He smirks and grabs a club to his left. “No, but you better keep that damn mouth shut because you’re gonna eat my dust.”

* * *

_1:02 PM_

 “Eat shit, Optimus Prime,” Hank cackles as they exit the building.

“Hank, don’t be a sore winner,” Connor advises, but he’s smiling, too. He’s never laughed as much as he laughed playing golf with Hank. Whether anyone can believe him or not, Connor really did have a lot of fun. For the first half an hour of playing, he went easy on the lieutenant, wanting him to win, but it took him another five minutes to realize Hank was actually good at the game.

“No, fuck you. I win.” Hank smirks, and they head back to the bus stop.

“It was a close game,” Connor says. “Maybe you were just lucky.”

“Hell no. Kid, let me tell you a few things about _talent…”_

The android shakes his head. “I let you win.”

Hank shoves his shoulder hard. “You did _not._ I saw you, and you were struggling. Actually struggling!”

Connor waves a dismissive hand. “I was entertaining you.” In reality, he actually had been putting real effort in attempting to beat Hank. However, as one might assume, he wasn’t exactly programmed to excel at something as frivolous as mini golf.

“Horse _shit,”_ Hank clearly enunciates. “‘Don’t be a sore winner’. Hah! My ass. Look at you, being a sore loser.”

Connor scoffs. “Okay, Hank, whatever you say.”

Triumphant, Hank smiles smugly to himself as together they wait for their ride.

The bus comes by, and they get on.

When they sit, Hank puts his arm around Connor’s shoulders and squeezes his arm. “Uh...Connor, don’t get the wrong idea, but...thanks for taking me there. It was...it was cool, and...yeah.”

That makes Connor smile again. “You’re welcome, Lieutenant. I also had a lot of fun.”

Hank sighs comfortably. “So. I’m assuming we’re going back home now?”

“Nope.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re draggin’ me all over town.”

“That’s the idea.”

The old cop retracts his arm and sighs again, heavily this time. “I’m too old for this shit.”

The android chuckles quietly. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you do any more physical activity. In fact, I was worried the golf might be too _strenuous_ on your brittle, fragile bones.”

Hank’s face flushes angrily and he slaps the underside of Connor’s head. “I might be old but I’ll never be too old to kick your shiny metal ass.”

Connor laughs. He leans against his partner, scooching close enough to press his cheek against a jacket-covered shoulder. He always feels so relaxed around Hank. “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”

* * *

_1:27 PM_

 Connor’s hands go over the lieutenant’s eyes. “No peeking, Hank.”

Hank grumbles and grumbles and grumbles.

“If I take my hands away, will you promise not to look?”

“No.”

“Hank.”

“Fine. Just—get on with it,” the old cop growls.

Pushing his brown hair out of his face, Connor grins and pulls his friend into the theatre. If anything was going to make Hank happy, it was precisely this—a private screening of one of his favourite movies. It was December 14th of last year when Hank mentioned this movie; ‘We have to watch it together one of these days’ is what he’d said. Fast forward to now, and they still had yet to sit down and watch it. It only made sense for them to do it today, didn’t it?

Carefully guiding Hank inside, Connor stops him gently before hurrying to the front desk. He quietly tells the human working there about his booking, and in no time flat the young man nods and gestures for the android to follow. Connor returns to Hank and pulls him along.

“I swear to fucking god, Connor, if you make me walk into a wall or something—”

“I assure you, Hank, it’s nothing like that.”

They step into the dark theatre. All these seats but not a single soul occupying any of them. Connor had researched cinemas, and discovered that they were on the verge of completely disappearing due to newer, better technology. Why go to a movie theatre when you can purchase them the second the film is released? Not that he’s had much—or _any—_ experience with movie theatres, but they certainly seemed like a place where people could come together, spend time, and enjoy themselves without hiding out in their homes, away from civilization. Scheduling a private screening hadn’t been too difficult for the android, as the theatre company seemed much too eager to turn down anybody’s money. Hank deserved this much at least.

Connor guides his partner to the seat in the very centre of the huge room. “Sit.”

Hank sits. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Yes.”

The lieutenant blinks his eyes open, and immediately, they widen. “Holy…” He looks around, obviously not expecting this of his surroundings. “What the hell?”

“I had an idea of which film I wanted us to watch for your birthday,” Connor says. A smile touches his lips. “Thought it might be nice.”

Hank continues looking around, wide-eyed. His face twists up almost unpleasantly, but then—it seems he has a change of heart, and his entire expression softens. The furrow of his grizzled brows smooth out.

Connor watches him. “Hank, you...you look surprised. I hope you’re not opposed to us watching a movie?”

“No, no, I—nah, it’s not that. It’s just—“ Hank leans his head back, resting his heavy arms along the armrests. “My God, it’s been years since I’ve been in a theatre. I haven’t sat down to watch a movie like this in fuckin’ forever. Not since…”

His words trail off. Somehow, Connor already knows how that sentence would end. He understands.

He patiently waits. Hank sighs and his eyes close briefly. “Well…shit.” He scratches the back of his head. Then, his tone gets lighter. “You better have picked a good movie, otherwise I’m outta here.”

Connor hums, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I think you’ll enjoy this one.”

Hank looks around one more time. “And we got the whole place to ourselves?”

“You bet.”

Looking more than pleased, Hank settles into his seat. “Well, what the fuck are they waiting for? Play the fucking movie!”

Almost as if on cue—or perhaps the employees just heard Hank’s vulgar yelling—the lights dimmed, and the screen flicked on. The big screen combined with the acoustics and the comfortable seats gave Connor an impressionable idea as to why humans would enjoy this sort of outing. Frankly, the film hasn’t even started yet and he was already feeling kind of excited. He was more than ready to experience this new event with possibly his most favourite person on the entire planet. Every minute spent with Hank made him feel that much more alive.

The opening credits roll by, and by the time the second main character’s actor’s name pops up on the screen, Connor hears his companion sharply suck in a wad of oxygen. “You are kidding me,” Hank gasps, his grin nearly splitting his face in half. “Yes! _Yes!_ Fuck yeah!”

Connor drinks in the sound of Hank’s happy laughter. He’s so focused on Hank’s smile that he can hardly pay the movie any attention. For the next two hours, nothing else matters.

* * *

_3:41 PM_

 “‘I didn’t kill my wife!’” Connor cries, his voice twisting and twirling dramatically.

Hank finishes the iconic dialogue. “‘I don’t care!’” They laugh and link arms as they leave the theatre. Connor waves goodbye to the human behind the front desk as they push open the doors to the outside.

“I enjoyed the movie very much,” the android says. He tips his eyes to the sky, and the fluffy white clouds from earlier today have dissipated into grey ones. “I can’t believe we hadn’t watched it together before today.”

“God, that shit was from my fucking childhood. I was so young when it first came out.” Hank chuckles, and appears to be reminiscing the good ol’ days. “They used to play the reruns of the TV show when I was a kid. They were in black-and-white and it was so fucking cool.” He scratches his wiry beard and they wait at the bus stop.

“Is that why you became a police officer?”

“Maybe,” says Hank honestly. “Yeah. Maybe. Guess I might’ve gotten inspired, or something.”

Connor nods. “I don’t blame you. The deputy in that film is quite the—badass.”

Lieutenant Anderson snorts. “You bet your ass he is. More badass than you and I combined.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

That makes Hank snicker again. “Trust me, nobody on this damn earth could ever be _half_ the badass Samuel Gerard is.”

An unsolicited comment barks out from somewhere to their right. “Yo, why don’t you speak for yourself, old man?” The voice is familiar. Maybe too familiar.

Hank visibly tenses. His face drops into a tight scowl. Connor peers over his shoulder, and—of course. Of course Gavin Reed just _happens_  to be taking a stroll in this _exact_ part of the city, _precisely_ when Connor and Hank happen to be in it.

Gavin’s sneering like he actually _wants_ to start a fight. To be fair, Connor had assumed that to be the case ever since he first arrived at the DPD. “Obviously you two could never amount to such level of badassery. But maybe you’ve forgotten about me.” Naturally, the RK900 (unofficially) known as Nines, follows behind Gavin like a shadow.

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor greets politely. “Hello, Nines.”

Nines nods once. “Good afternoon,” he rumbles in his deep, formal voice.

“Hey, dipshit,” Gavin says to Connor. “The fuck are you two up to?”

“None of your business, Reed,” Hank growls.

“Hey—” Gavin raises his hands defensively. “No need to bite my head off, I’m just wondering.”

“Well, wonder no more and take a fucking hike.”

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Is it a crime to be curious now?”

“Yeah. So beat it, before I arrest ya.”

The detective wipes a hand under his scarred nose before folding his arms over his chest. “Whatever. I bet it wasn’t interesting, anyway.” Nines puts a hand on his human’s shoulder and Gavin sighs heavily. “Whatever,” he repeats. “We was just taking a walk. Did some shopping.”

Hank snorts, and Connor just _knows_ something crude is going to come out of his mouth. “You, shopping? Is that code for ‘making Nines give me a blowjob in the changing room’?” Yup.

Gavin’s eyes narrow and his face flushes angrily, red spreading up his neck to the very tips of his ears. Detective Reed looks approximately two seconds away from either a) spitting out a very vicious, very nasty response, or b) letting his fist fly through the air and connecting it with Hank’s nose. Either way, Connor prepares himself to intervene, whether it be verbally or physically.

Nines squeezes. The tension in Gavin’s shoulders slowly releases, and they slump. The red in his face lessens, and—Gavin may actually be pouting. “No,” he says in a subdued voice. “We were shopping. For some...whatever, doesn’t matter.”

Connor relaxes. Hank purses his lips, seemingly surprised from the lack of a violent retort. He shrugs. “Okay, cool.”

Nines dips his head, and whispers something in Gavin’s ear too quiet for Connor to pick up. Gavin straightens his back and clears his throat. “Anyway, we should be off. We better head back. See you two around, I guess,” he mumbles, looking uncharacteristically passive and awkward. Without so much of a goodbye, he spins around on his heel and slinks off.

The RK900 sticks around, but only for a minute. He bows his head slightly. “Lieutenant. Connor.” His crystal blue eyes connect with Connor’s briefly. Then, he turns and follows after Gavin.

Hank’s shaking his head. He’s annoyed. Connor reaches up to gently pat his shoulder. “Leave it to fucking Reed to pop up outta nowhere and ruin everything.”

Connor smiles sheepishly. “He didn’t ruin everything, Lieutenant.” He gets a grunt in response, so he continues. “If you ask me, I think you were being rather harsh to him.”

“Are you fucking serious? He was being a prick, like he always is.”

“I don’t know. Detective Reed certainly can be...offending in the way that he speaks, but I don’t think he had bad intentions when we met with him just now.”

His partner huffs. “Yeah, right. Connor, he’s a dick.”

“He’s improving,” Connor says optimistically. “Maybe Nines has been a good influence on him, because I sincerely believe Gavin is definitely not as mean as he used to be.”

Hank falls quiet. This time, he has nothing to say. Maybe for the better.

The bus barrels down the street. Connor gently puts his hand on Hank’s back and they both step onto the bus. “I have one more stop in mind, Hank. Just one more. Then we can go home.”

They sit and Hank’s face is soft, just like it was for those few moments back in the theatre. “Alright, Connor.”

The rest of the ride is comfortably silent.

* * *

_3:58 PM_

 Hank’s eyes are big. “What the fuck kinda place is this?” His heart leaps into his throat.

Connor grins wide as he takes in the childlike awe on his friend’s face. “A jazz club.”

“You’re kidding.” Hank turns his wide-eyed stare onto Connor.

“No.”

Hank feels like he’s about to crumble.

The android takes his wrist and squeezes it tenderly. They slowly shuffle into the club. It’s filled with people, but their conversations are quiet. It’s as if they all just want to listen to the singer, or maybe they knew Hank was coming and decided to keep it down to a minimum. “I know how much you love jazz,” Connor whispers.

The woman on stage is in a slinky black dress with her hair piled on top of her head. She sings with a low, sultry voice into a microphone. _“I’ve got you under my skin...I’ve got you deep in the heart of me…”_

“I thought you might like this.”

_“So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me…”_

Hank’s entire body melts. The top layer of his skin catches on fire.

“What do you think?”

_“I’ve got you under my skin.”_

The trumpets, the trombones, the saxophones, and the soft drums all blend in so perfectly. The beauty of the sleek, slithering jazz crawls into the spaces between Hank’s ribs, and he is—he feels—

Alive.

“Connor,” he chokes out. “Thank you. I love this.”

Connor’s eyes light up, and he looks happy, too. He smiles that perfect smile with all his teeth and Hank wants to scoop him up in his arms and hold him. “I’m so glad,” Connor says. He winks. “Come on. I reserved us a table.”

It’s a table that, of course, is in the absolute perfect centre of the jazz. Not too close to the front, not too close to the back, but in the perfect spot to watch the band, watch the singer, and _feel. Every. Single. Note._ Hank feels it. He might be fifty-four years old, but his ears ring with sweet crème-de-la-crème _jazz,_ real jazz, not computer-generated bullshit, reverberating in his veins and synching with his heartbeat.

It’s perfect. Everything is perfect. To him, this entire day, from beginning till now, has been absolutely, undeniably one of the best, most relaxing days of his life since he lost his son.

They get comfy in their chairs. Hank orders a drink and Connor orders one, too. When the waitress leaves, Hank can’t control himself. He wipes his fingers over his eyes, wiping away the moisture that collected in them.

Connor notices. Of course he does, he notices everything. He shifts his chair closer to his partner and immediately leans in to hug him. Hank lets him. Hell, he hugs back.

“Be happy, Hank,” Connor whispers near his ear, a hand rubbing his back. “Today is your special day.”

Hank presses his face against the android’s soft cotton shoulder, liquid dripping from the corners of his eyes and staining the green t-shirt.

“You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes. Much more selfish.”

Connor is everything good and guileless in this world. Maybe Hank is selfish for even being his friend. He could try to look for any ounce of deception buried deep in the android’s code, but he knows he would find none.

“You deserve this.”

At this very second, at this very minute, at this very hour, on this very day, anxiety and depression aren’t familiar concepts. And that, Hank thinks, is _rare._

They lean back in their chairs, shoulders pressed flush against each other, and listen.

* * *

_6:13 PM_

 “I think I got carried away a little back there,” Hank says. His jacket is zipped up all the way to his chin. They  slowly wade through the crowd out the door of the club, into the rain.

Connor rubs his arms and wonders why he didn’t bring a jacket even if he knew it was going to rain. “It’s okay.”

“Connor, I—I really had a good time today. You’ve done so much for me.” Hank stares at his feet. “I didn’t realize,” he says slowly. “how much I’ve been missing out on.”

Connor looks at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been missing out on life, son.” They stand side-by-side at the bus stop. “Today made me realize that...there’s so much more to life than work and...sadness, and...hopelessness.” Hank sounds calm and thoughtful. “A part of me wishes I met you sooner. Then maybe I wouldn’t have…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Punished yourself for something that was out of your control?”

Hank nods, one single, jerky motion. “Yeah.”

And then Connor smiles almost sadly. “You only have one life, Hank. You must live it how you want to live it.” He takes a deep breath, his artificial lungs expanding with air he doesn’t need. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. Raindrops fall on his nose and cheeks. “‘In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take’.”

Hank turns to him, wrinkling his nose. “Did you make that up just now?”

“No. I read it somewhere.”

“Oh.”

“I mean it, though. I want you to acknowledge that you deserve happiness. You deserve a life that makes you feel good and brings you joy.” The bus comes by, right on time. “Because when the time comes that you can no longer live as fully as you’d like, it’s best that you enjoyed what you love all throughout your journey.”

He looks over at Hank, whose face is smooth and at ease. The lieutenant looks down at his shoes, then up to the sky, and the cogwheels in his head churn. “I hope I can do that,” he says. “But you never know what life might throw your way…”

Connor nudges his shoulder. “Think positively, Lieutenant. Things will turn out in the end, you’ll see.”

They step onto the bus. Finding a seat near the back, Hank leans his head back against the chair, and breathes in deeply. He exhales, and glances at Connor. Without warning, the old cop smiles, and reaches over to muss up the android’s hair. “With you around,” he says. “they just might.”

* * *

_7:02 PM_

 Connor is really, _really_ excited.

He had said to Hank that the club was the last surprise of the day. Of course he had said that, like a liar. Something awaits them back at their house, something that hopefully Hank won’t get too pissed at him for. He crosses his fingers and hopes that Hank won’t mind.

They step off the bus, finally, and start walking back home. “I think I’m gonna call it a night,” Hank says.

Connor winces and hopes Hank doesn’t notice. “Are you sure? I thought we might stay up tonight.”

“Eh, I guess we can. Besides, I’m starving. You haven’t fed me since this morning,” Hank complains.

“Well, we have plenty of food inside.”

“You got that right.”

They head up the steps to the cozy little bungalow. Hank pulls out his keys and Connor can feel his thirium pump sloshing in his chest half-nervously, half-excitedly.

“I gotta piss,” Hank grunts, unlocking the door. He opens the door, and they both step inside. “Why the fuck is it so dark? I don’t remember turning the lights off before w—“

No less than thirty voices _scream_ at them. **_“Happy birthday, Hank!”_ **

Hank yelps. The lights flick on, all of them all at the same time.

Lo and behold. A cluster of people standing in the living room, clapping and cheering and blowing partyhorns and whistling. Party decorations are strewn about, balloons bobbing against the ceiling or crawling along the floor, streamers and sparkles and sprinkles and everything fun and pretty. Sumo wags his tail, sporting a party hat.

Hank’s mouth flops open. “What,” he says. “The. _Fuck.”_

Several of the women in the room put their hands over their children’s ears.

“Surprise,” Connor says brightly.

* * *

_7:37 PM_

 “Thank you for coming.” Connor shakes the last guest’s hand. “Sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner; everybody else wanted to say hello first.”

Markus’ eyes twinkle. “That’s alright.” He turns his heterochromatic gaze onto the party—everybody is talking, everybody is smiling and laughing, and, even if he seems a bit uncomfortable, Hank looks relaxed as he chats up both humans and androids. The non-android guests help themselves to food and drink, courtesy of Connor, naturally. Music flows through several speakers. “How are you doing?”

Connor smiles. “I’m doing good. I’m happy.”

“Oh, good. That’s what I like to hear. You organized all this by yourself?”

“Yes. Taking Hank out for a few adventures in town, and then a nice little get-together at the end of the day—all me.” Connor puffs his chest out like a proud bird.

Markus smirks. “Very impressive.” He tugs at his wine-red, v-neck tee. “I hope the decorations aren’t too over the top. I asked my team to find whatever would be appropriate for such an occasion.” He absently scratches at his wrist. “It’s been a...long time since we helped contribute to a human’s birthday party. Some of us at Jericho never had, not until today.” His eyes land on a female android with long, light brown hair, smiling as she talks animatedly with one of Hank’s co-workers. Connor recognizes her. “I think,” Markus says slowly. “this is good for them. Celebrating a human’s life and not having to live in a constant state of...hatred, or fear.” His smile is genuine and kind. “You having such a good relationship with Lieutenant Anderson is nothing short of inspirational.”

Connor bubbles with pride. “Thank you, Markus.” It’s hard to believe that this is the man he was supposed to kill less than a year ago. “I just want all androids to know that we can live in harmony with the humans. Maybe learn to love them again.”

“Yes, of course. There are many good humans out there. Being able to love one or some of them isn’t impossible.” Markus’ expression turns thoughtful, and he almost looks sad for half a second. Then, the smile returns, and he puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Well, thank you for inviting us. We’re more than happy to celebrate Hank’s life with you.” His eyes shine with admiration. “He must mean a lot to you.”

Connor nods. “He means everything to me.”

“I understand. Take care of him, Connor. Enjoy the time you have with him.” This time, Markus’ smile does turn sad. “You never know when you have to say goodbye.” He retracts his hand, and wanders off.

_You never know._ Those words sit in Connor’s head for a long time, and he can’t seem to shake them off even when he starts talking to others.

He casually makes his way around the kitchen and living room, making small talk or slightly deeper conversations with anyone who wants to talk to him. Even Captain Fowler pulls him aside, making him tense up, but after realizing Fowler only wanted to commend him for doing all of this in support of Hank growing older, he relaxed. The entire day he’d been worried, worried that he was doing too much, or doing too little. He wasn’t sure what exactly Hank deserved, but he at the very least deserved happiness, so Connor followed his heart. Hearing confirmations of him doing good filled him with relief and joy. He was doing a good thing. That made him feel good.

“I find myself at my happiest when I’m with him,” he says to his coworkers at the DPD. “He really is special.”

Similarly, he says to a few members of Jericho, “He makes me realize that, whether it’s for a human or for another android, I _do_ feel love. I know that what I feel is the love humans have towards their parents. I know what I feel because Hank is the reason I feel this way. I’m sure by this point in time you understand what I’m talking about. You should never be afraid to feel this way towards anyone, whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial love. Never forget that love has no limitations.” He feels powerful when he talks about Hank, and he figures it might be because it all comes straight from the heart. If he knows anything at all, it’s that everything he says is everything he means.

Sooner than later, he approaches a familiar face. “Gavin,” he greets. “I’m glad you could make it. Thank you for coming.”

The hardened detective huffs. “Yeah, sure.” His arms are tight across his chest. Nines, who is wearing a party hat, stares hard at Gavin’s head, as if trying to figure out how to put a party hat on it without getting punched. “Just so you know, I’m only here because it makes me look good, not because I give one remote, minuscule shit about Hank.”

Connor smiles toothily. “Sure.”

Gavin scowls darkly. “Sounds like you don’t believe me, metalhead. You wanna fuckin’ start something?”

“No, I believe you.”

“Fuck you. Fuck. _You._ I—“ Nines reaches over to squeeze Gavin’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath, and then slowly releases it through his mouth. When he opens his eyes, he glares, albeit a bit weakly. “Look. I got Hank a little somethin’ while Nines and I were out today. Would ya give it to him? I’m blowing this popsicle stand.”

“Hmm…” Connor taps a thoughtful finger on his chin. He turns to glance around the room, spotting his friend in the kitchen. “You know, I’m pretty sure Hank’s free at the moment. I think he would love it if you gave him your gift yourself.” He grabs Gavin’s wrist.

“Wh—no! _No,”_ Gavin snaps. “Just—I have to go, shithead!”

“I’m sure you can stay for another two minutes, Detective.” Connor starts to tug.

“What did I just _fucking_ say?! You better let go of me, or I’ll—“ Nines grabs Gavin’s other wrist. “Nines, you fuckin’ traitor! Let go!” Gavin digs his heels into the floor.

Unfortunately for the small human, he was no match for the two androids, and they start dragging him across the house to Hank. “Nooo,” Gavin moans, face pure red as a few spectators snicker at the scene. “I hate you both. Nines, you’re gonna regret this when we get outta here—!”

Nines actually _rolls his eyes_ at Gavin’s comment, seemingly unfazed by it. “Good idea, Connor,” he says quietly. “Exposure to the outskirts of his comfort zone is beneficial to him maintaining good relations with the public.”

Connor smirks. “Exactly what I thought.”

They approach Hank, and Hank blinks at the three of them. “Reed? Nines? Didn’t know you two were here.”

The androids pull a stiff and clearly uncomfortable Gavin to the lieutenant. Connor smiles encouragingly while Nines’ eyebrows lift suggestively. Face now beet-red, Gavin frowns and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Uh, yeah. We got—Connor invited us,” he mumbles. “I knew it was your birthday. Just didn’t give a shit. These two practically forced me to come here, though.” Nines nudges his shoulder and Gavin appears to shrink, his shoulders coming up to his ears. “Anyway.” He actually looks _nervous._ It’s oddly endearing. “When Nines and I were out today, we—well, I dunno, we saw this...thing and thought you might...fuckin’, I dunno, enjoy it, I guess.”

Hank lifts a brow. “Oookay…”

Gavin digs through his pocket for a second, and yanks something out. “Here.” He thrusts a closed fist out.

Hesitantly, Hank holds out his hand, and Gavin drops something on his palm. The old cop stares blankly at it. “What the fuck is it?”

A long, white-gold chain. On the end of it, an oval.

Gavin shoves his hands back in his pockets and looks away. “A locket,” he mutters.

Hank opens the tiny oval. Connor takes a peek. Tiny rhinestones surround the perimeter of the hollow locket. It’s simple but timeless.

Connor glances at Hank’s face. Hank can’t stop staring at it.

“—was bitching at me to do something nice for once,” Gavin was rambling. “It’s not chump change, you know. Not easy money at all. But I—I dunno, I just—i-it made me think that…that you…” He scratches the nape of his neck and looks awfully embarrassed. “...needed somethin’ like this. Do—do you even _know_ how fucking hard it was to find that little shit? They went obsolete, like, ten years ago or somethin’. Everybody’s buyin’ electronic, magnetic, Blu-Ray, fuckin’ 4K display-type shits. So I figured, ‘hey, it’s different, it looks cool, why not?’ So I...thought you’d…” It can’t possibly be healthy for any human to turn this shade of red. Something tells Connor that Gavin hasn’t bought anyone a gift in a long, long time. Maybe not ever. “You can put a picture in it. Or two. Of...whatever you want. That’s—that’s why I got it. Because...I thought...that…fuck it, I’m outta here.” Gavin turns around and stalks away. Well, he only manages about two steps before—

“Gavin.” Hank sounds far away, a bit softened, a bit vulnerable.

Slowly, Gavin peers over his shoulder.

Hank nods, and everything about him is soft. “Thank you.  This is very kind of you.”

The ice-cold detective appears to thaw. For only half a second, but a thaw nonetheless. “Yeah, well,” he says under his breath. “Don’t get used to it.” That’s all he says, and maybe that’s all he needs to say, and then he heads to the door. Connor watches him fumble with the handle before ripping it open and disappearing.

There’s a teeny tiny smirk on Nines’ face. The corners of his mouth have twitched up the slightest bit. “Gavin Reed is a strange case,” he says, his smooth voice a stark contrast to Gavin’s bitter tone. “But…” He tips his chin up slightly. “I sense great things from him. As much as he’d like to deny it, he is...an exceptional human.” He looks to the front door almost adoringly, then clears his throat. “I should make sure he doesn’t start any street fights. Lieutenant—” Nines nods politely. “Enjoy the party. Have a happy birthday.” He turns his icy eyes onto Connor and nods again. With that, he walks away, disappearing out the door the same way Gavin went.

Hank exhales loudly, as if he’d been holding in his breath for a while. “Jesus fucking Christ. What’s gotten into Reed?”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Connor says.

“Yeah. Me neither.” Hank lifts the chain and studies the locket. His eyes are soft again. “Got a good taste in jewelry, though.”

Connor can’t help but ask: “Are you going to put pictures in it, Hank?”

The lieutenant dangles the locket in front of his eyes. He’s thoughtful. “I just might.”

“Of what? Have you decided yet?”

“Yeah...I have.” And then Hank gently runs his thumb over the shimmering gold. “Think I’ll put a special kid in here. A special kid I used to know.”

Connor feels himself smile. “That’s a good idea.”

“And in the other space, I’ll put a pic of another special kid. One that’s still with me.” Hank lifts his head and smiles slightly. “Think I’ll do exactly that.”

A cornucopia of emotions settle in Connor’s chest. His heart, as artificial as it may be, swells and swells and spills into his stomach. He’s a little light-headed, and he’s a little dizzy, but he’s happy. He’s always happy with Hank.

They stand, shoulders together, and quietly watch the party from their spot in the kitchen.

* * *

_11:42 PM_

 Time seems to go by so slowly when one looks at the stars at night.

Connor’s neck was starting to feel a bit sore from the stress he put on it by continuously craning his head back. He checked his internal clock and noted it was almost midnight. A few more minutes until September 7. A few more minutes left of Hank’s birthday.

The last guest had shuffled out fifteen minutes ago. Both the humans and androids seemed to have enjoyed themselves; at least, that’s what they told Connor, and he liked to think most of them were being honest. Usually he’s pretty good in telling when someone is lying to him. Maybe it was safe to say that their opinions on the get-together were genuine. Either way, he feels satisfied.

The LED in Connor’s temple flashes a curious yellow. He blinks and wipes a knuckle across his eye. He blinks again and sits very upright in the lawnchair for a second. A quick diagnostics tells him his energy levels are slightly depleted, so an hour to an hour and a half of being in rest mode would be ideal to give his internal processors the time to restore and recharge. Deviancy, he’d noted, had the tendency of drawing out larger quantities of his overall source of energy, making him more susceptible to feeling tired, groggy, sluggish, even. Absentmindedly, he wonders if android coffee will become a thing of the future.

Before he retires to either the couch in the living room or the bed with Hank, he figures it might do him good to review tomorrow’s schedule at the DPD. He pulls up a document on his HUD and browses through it. He’d filed it under the title of _Daily Personal Priority Manager._ Hank just calls it a to-do list.

 

07/09/2039 

6:00 AM—EXIT SLEEP MODE AND REBOOT SYSTEMS

6:15 AM—PREPARE FOOD FOR DAY

7:30 AM—WAKE HANK

7:35 AM—FEED SUMO AND SUPERVISE HANK PREPARING FOR WORK

8:00 AM—DEPART FOR WORK

8:25 AM—ARRIVE AT WORK

9:00 AM—PREPARE AND FINALIZE REPORTS FOR FOWLER

10:30 AM—MAKE PHONE CALLS TO…

 

Connor’s attention drifts elsewhere by the time he gets halfway through the schedule. He closes the file and it disappears from his view. He relaxes in his seat, pressing his back to the back of the chair.

He tilts his head back. The sky looks wonderful, pitch back with millions and billions of little lights to decorate it.

The back door creaks open behind him, and he swivels to look. Hank scratches his chest, a bottle of water in his other hand’s grip. Staying partially off the alcohol has significantly improved his health.

“Hey.” Hank slowly approaches. “What’re you doing out here?”

Connor smiles slightly and reclines his neck yet again. “I’m looking at the stars.” Hank plops down heavily in the chair next to him. “And thinking about life.”

“Yeah?” The grizzled old cop takes a healthy swig of his water. “Mm. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, Lieutenant.”

Then they are silent. The stars are breathtaking. Connor focuses on a white dot and it twinkles at him. They were so far away, but still kind enough to wink at an android and offer their beauty to him.

“You’re not cold, Connor?” Hank asks after a while.

Connor looks at him, then. Those blue eyes seem so out of place with the rest of Hank’s iron-clad face, eyebrows drawn downwards and giving his expression a constant state of scorn. The creases that outlined the contours of the old lieutenant’s stiff, white face were painted with a heavy hand holding a thin marker. His scratchy beard and rough forehead were merely the mantle, and his eyes were the centrepieces. “No,” Connor says. “I’m okay.” Hank’s thick grey hoodie smells of home and grungy comfort. He was always warm in Hank’s clothes.

“Good,” Hank grumbles. “Last thing I wanna hear from you is that your pipes froze and you need my help in getting your skinny ass down to Cyberlife so they can fix you up. You know damn well I hate that place and I’d rather roll in Sumo’s shit than go there.”

“You wouldn’t even take me if I were on my last drop of thirium, minutes away from imminent shutdown, one foot in the grave?” Sometimes Connor liked to tease his old man.

“Nope. Hah! The hell I will. I’ll take you apart and salvage you for some cash. How much are you worth?” Sometimes Hank liked to tease back.

“More than you, Hank.”

“Oh, we’re mouthy today. Who taught you to talk like that?”

Connor chuckles quietly. “I wonder who.”

The cool air blankets him like a light comforter. It did comfort him. The black sky must be the biggest and most perfect object in the universe. Having received the gift of touch alongside his other senses made him that much more susceptible to its massive, overwhelming energy. Just what purpose do they serve, residing on this undersized, oversized speck they call Earth?

“Hank, I—“ Connor starts without quite thinking it through. He tips his big brown eyes to the sky and wonders what it all means.

“Yeah?”

“You know anything about the stars?”

Hank shrugs. “Nothin’ scientific, if that’s what you want. But all I know is that they’re billions of years old, super far away, and full of hot air. And, I mean, I guess they look pretty cool.”

“You guess? They are _objectively_ beautiful.” Connor wishes he were close enough to a star to analyze one, to see how hot it is, how old it is, what the humans have decided to call it. “I want to touch one.”

“You’ll burn to a crisp before you even get close enough. Or the light will fuckin’ blow out your eyes. That’s how bright they are. I mean, try to look at the sun.” Hank gestures vaguely to the sky. “You can’t stare at it for too long or you’ll go blind.”

“I bet I could last a while.”

“Oh, right. _You_ could. Not me.” Hank drinks rapidly from his water, then crushes the plastic bottle and kicks it.

Connor smiles. “We could always go to the moon, Hank. It’s not so bright, and it’s close enough.”

“‘We’? Hell no. _You_ can go. I’m stayin’ here.”

“Why? Don’t you want to go to space?”

“Yeah, but it’s too cold. Too far.”

“Hank.”

“Count me out. Besides, I’m too old to be doin’ any space travel. Might dislocate a hip or something.”

“Oh, Hank. I would pop it back in for you.”

Hank rolls his light-blue eyes. “How generous of you.”

A slight wind picks up. The gentle breeze they’d previously been experiencing was replaced with a chilly gust of air. Connor tightens the drawstrings of the hoodie and rubs his fingers together.

“Connor...look.” The lieutenant’s voice drops to a serious timbre. The sudden change of Hank’s tone startles Connor. He turns to regard his friend, and notices a somber expression on his face. Hank sighs. “Today has been...a really good day. I actually had fun, and—you’ve been so incredibly nice to me. Not just today; since the damn beginning.” He pauses. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Hank—“

“I’m not getting any younger, son, but you already know that. You know that I…” Hank looks down at his fingers. “I realized today that I won’t be able to stay with you for much longer.”

“Hank…”

“Sooner or later, there’ll be a time where I can’t hang out with you like this. I’d be gone.”

_You never know when you have to say goodbye._

“Maybe it’ll be in a car accident, or in the line of duty, or even of old age. Hopefully old age. I’ve been trying to kill myself for years now. But you changed my way of thinking.” Hank turns to Connor and their eyes lock. “I’ve decided I want to live,” he says. “I don’t wanna be known as the cop who blew his brains out in his kitchen because he was too depressed. I wanna be known as the cop that had a good, long, _happy_ life. I want to be happy, Connor. And I think that—“ His voice cracks a bit when he says this. “—that having you around makes it easier for me to feel like I have something to live for. I hope that...maybe you can...keep an old bastard like me happy for...a long time.”

Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was Hank, maybe it was out of happiness, or maybe it was out of sadness, but Connor’s eyes fill with tears and spill down his cheeks.

He stands to push his chair closer to Hank’s. He sits, and his arms reach for Hank wordlessly. The old cop wastes no time in accepting the hug and reciprocating it. They stay in that position for several minutes, maybe one, maybe two, maybe ten—ah, hell, let’s just call it forever. Hank’s friendly warmth oozed into Connor, filling his core and stretching out into each finger and each toe. Hank’s scraggly beard rubbed against his shoulder as they embraced. He never wants to let go.

“Jesus, kid. Didn’t mean to make ya cry, shit.” Hank pulls back slightly, and uses his thumb to wipe away the tears. “Sheesh, way to make me feel bad.”

Connor manages a watery chuckle. “Sorry.” He wipes his sweater sleeve over his eyes. He never really recognized how much he loved Hank until this very moment. Now he knows, for certain, that he loved him, and probably will still love him even after Hank has passed away. Maybe if he wished upon these stars hard enough, they’ll grant him two things: one of them being a heaven for androids, and the second being that the heaven for androids is interchangeable between the heaven for humans. Maybe one day they can meet in some dream-like world beyond this current one. He can only hope.

“I’ll never leave you. Not even when you’re a hundred years old, or when you can’t move on your own anymore, or when you don’t remember who I am. I’ll always be by your side.” Connor smiles, feeling brighter than any silly old star. “You are home to me. I love you, Dad.”

Hank’s fingers tremble, and they find Connor’s hair as they hug and hug and hug until they can’t hug anymore. “Love you, too, kiddo.” Connor has never felt so ethereal.

Finally, they separate. The second they do, Hank’s fingers fly to his own face, touching quickly under his eyes. “Right, well. Enough of that.” He clears his throat, clearly trying to revert back to his usual persona, his _I’m a lieutenant, dammit, and lieutenants don't show emotions_ façade. “It’s getting cold, and I’m ready to pass out.”

They both stand up. Hank reaches out to cup Connor’s cheek, patting it gently. “Fifty-four years old,” he sighs. “You oughta feel lucky as hell. You don’t ever have to worry about wrinkles and grey hair like I do. Damn android.” The way he says it is without any hint of malice. “Anyway, you better head inside, too.” He trudges towards the door.

Connor glances back to the black sky one last time. The lights flicker and flicker and flicker and flicker.

“Hey. You coming?”

The stars seem so old and wise. They’re full of history and knowledge. If only people appreciated them more.

He looks at Hank’s wrinkled t-shirt and stained sweatpants. “Coming, Lieutenant.”

Maybe there’s a star closer to the earth than the sun after all.

* * *

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANK!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY!!!!  
> *September by Earth, Wind & Fire plays in the background*


End file.
